Do You Believe In Angels?
by Softhalo
Summary: Maybe we all have an angel that we deserve. Blue centered, but Reds and Greens too.
1. BIGBIGBIG

"Do you believe in angels?"

A small, blond boy spoke up. Next to him sat another boy, taller and lanky, with long scarlet hair and freckles covering his body head to toe.

"No." He paused and looked down at his hands. They were covered in scabs and scars. "I think we deserve whatever we get, even if it's bad. An angel would break those rules. They'd save you" The blond boy looked away and picked at his bandaid on his knee.

"I hope angels are real, so one could fly me away from here."

"You're such a child." The redhead scoffed as his arms curled around his knees. "If they did, don't you think they'd be here already. We prolly don't deserve an angel anyways."

Neither boys looked at each other as they sat together on the tall hill. The long grass swaying in the wind as the sun began to set.

Born with bright blue eyes and beautiful blond hair, Boomer was the epiphany of the perfect child to his parents. He'd inherited his mother's dimples and beauty marks as well as her smile. The beach was his one love like hers. In the summer his mother would take him to the families beach house. Soft Serve would drip down onto his perfectly creased shirt, sand creeping into every crevice of his shorts. His mother's laugh when he would play with the crabs, as she'd scoop him away from the waves and into her arms. She'd shower him with kisses as she spun him around, twirling on the beach.

He would ask to go into the water and she would again take him into her arms, slowly wading further into the waves. They'd stand for a while as fish swam around her legs, and Boomer would reach out to touch them, they'd be scared and swim away but it never bothered him. It always felt like home out there on the beach.

When they weren't at the beach, they were at home. His mother's hair in perfect ringlets and bigbigbig dresses. With her bigbigbig smile, and bigbigbig laugh. Always attending her husbands bigbigbig parties on his bigbigbig arm, she was a small woman. People thought she was a siren, too beautiful to be a real human, too perfect to be mortal. With her sweetsweetsweet voice and gentlegentlegentle demeanor, she didn't fit with her husbands rough attitude. She was the center of the room, the center of his father's world. But that didn't mean the bigbigbig man loved her normally. He craved all of her attention, all of her love. It was supposed to be hishishis. And his son got into the way. Even if he was the perfect image, the perfect little boy. With bright blue eyes, and a bright big smile, in his bright blue trousers with the perfectly creased button up. He was too perfect, too much like his mother. He took too much love away from his father, and he hated that.

So it didn't matter how perfect the boy was, how hard he tried. His father hated him. He scowled when the child smiled, and rarely was seen by him. He knew if his wife knew, she wouldn't give him the love he so wanted. So he hid it, his anger, his sorrow, his jealousy of a child.

As the years went on his mother got sick. Boomer was 7, there were no more beach visits, no more softserve, no more wading in the ocean. There was instead lots of hospital visits, lots of tears, and lots and lots of medicine. He held her hand as she squeezed it, her vitals beeping steadily. Her bright blue eyes, and deepdeepdeep dimples, with her bigbigbig smile. She couldn't wear her big dresses, or go to the big parties. Instead she got bigbigbig bouquets of flowers, that wilted too soon and bloomed too brightly. They wished for her to get better, but she never did. Boomer wondered if the flowers knew she was sick. Her husband was rarely away from her side. Even though the big parties still went on, and the people still talked without her, she remained happy. She always talked about how much she loved Boomer, how she was going to see him grow up to be a handsome young man, and how they could visit the beach again.

Boomer was 8, and his mother was taking him back to the beach one last time. It was raining that night, with loudloudloud thunder and brightbrightbright lightning. His mother was gone, she was going back to where she belonged. At least that's what Boomer believed. She walked into the ocean like she did with her son when he was young. Boomer was asleep in the beach house.

She didn't come back.

Maybe she really was a siren afterall, and she had spent too much time on the land. Perhaps it was her time to return to her home. The one where she really belonged, that's why she had to leave her husband and son behind. She just couldn't stay any longer.

Boomer's father had lost his love. His one love, his everything. Her body was found the next week, washed up on the shore. Boomer had already been taken home, he was the one to cry out for his mom in the morning. He cried and cried as he was pulled away from the beach, crying out for his mother, for her to come back. Soon his father had learned what happened. His hate for his son grew, if his wife had never taken him out to the beach, she would have never walked into the ocean. So he drowned like his wife, in whisky and vodka.

There were no more big parties, no more talk of beaches, no more love in the house. Instead there were new women, less money, and more violence. The bright smile was gone, the blue eyes faded. His tan skin turned pale with purple patches everywhere. Happy laughs and happy smiles turned into sobbing screams, and pleads to stop.

Boomer was 9. His father was running out of money, and Boomer didn't come out of his room. If he didn't go out, he couldn't remind his father of his mother. And if his father wasn't reminded of his wife, then Boomer wouldn't receive the kicks and slaps as per usual. His school changed as his father stopped funding the private one he once attended. Instead he went to public school, there were no more pressed uniforms. But no one knew about his mother, so Boomer was happy.

If they knew would they blame him too?

Boomer was 10, and he had just made his first friend. A tall boy with blood orange hair and lots and lots of freckles named Brick. He had redredred irises, and a coldcoldcold stare. But he was smart and kind, only to Boomer though. He said he reminded him of his brother. Boomer didn't ask about his brother, and Brick never spoke about him. Brick also had lots of bruises, and lots of scars lining down his wrists. But Boomer didn't ask about those either, because Brick never asked about Boomer's.

Public school wasn't a dream however. Although the kids never learned about his mom, they didn't like him. His eyes were too big they said, and he was too short they said. He got pushed and teased. But Brick was always there to scare people away, and soon they stopped. If Brick went somewhere, so did Boomer, following like a lost puppy.


	2. Enter the Angel

Boomer is 14 now, and he's grown taller. Much taller, but not taller than Brick. His father had to sell their large house and buy a much much smaller one. The lavish parties and his mothers sweet smile was but a distant memory. Instead Boomer focused on his reality of booze and girls that his father brings home. He shuts himself into his room and tries to block out the noises of moans and laughs that come from the room of a man who never loved him. Boomer wonders if all of this was really helping his father forget, or if it was just something to take the pain away. He only wants to escape away, back to the beach, so he can join his mother in the ocean, under the waves. He holds his own hand tightly as he quietly sobs into his pillow.

Some nights his father barges into his room in a drunken rage and beats Boomer till he's black and blue. One night as his head was slammed into the window facing the street, Boomer swore he saw an angel with beautiful blonde pigtails and large wings walking down the sidewalk. The shards of glass that became embedded into his skin, as the glass cracked, no longer hurt, as he watched the angel walk away and out of view. How he wishes she would come back, and take him away from his father, then he could go back to the ocean. Maybe she could fly him there. Boomer doesn't sleep that night, instead he stares at his ceiling as he lays on his floor, the pain in his cheek and blood on his face not seeming to bother him.

Boomer is not longer in elementary, or middle school, but instead he's in high school. Brick is still his best friend and he still follows him around like a lost puppy dog. Brick hasn't cut his hair in years, he says it's a waste of time, because it'll just grow back. But he makes sure to brush it and tie it up into a ponytail. He's taken to wearing a baseball cap all the time, and is rarely seen without a sweater on. Sometimes he comes to school and just sleeps in all of his classes. Brick was nothing less of a genius from what Boomer knew. He'd always get perfect grades without trying and taught Boomer everything he knew.

Brick can't protect Boomer as much as he could before, because now they don't have all the same classes. So now Boomer gets shoved in the hallways and laughed at for his too big shirts, torn shoes, and for always smiling no matter what happens. If he can seem like he's happy with it, then it doesn't hurt as much. Afterall he saw an angel. A real angel with wings and everything. Sometimes the kids trip him, just to see if he will still laugh it off, or if he will finally stop faking to be okay.

"Are you really going to keep letting them treat you like that?" Brick says as he helps Boomer up from the floor. Boomer never answers quickly because he doesn't exactly know the answer himself.

Boomer instead laughs and softly punches Brick in the shoulder. "It's okay. I swear!" And his bright smile returns, with dimples and everything. Brick grunts as he shrugs it off. They walk out to their customary picnic table, where the two of them sit every day. But today was different, because a boy came over to their table. He had messy black hair, covering some of his face, but shaved on both sides of his head. His ears were pierced too many times for Boomer to believe and his eyebrows had slits shaved. He had darkdarkdark green eyes and was taller than Boomer but not taller than Brick. He smiled and revealed his sharpsharpsharp canines that were unusually large, and teeth covered with braces.

"My name is Butch, I'm new, let's be friends!" He held out his hand and gave the two boys a toothy grin. Boomer blinked and smiled back, he took the boys hand and shook it excitedly.

"Yes, let's!" Butch slide onto the bench as he started to wildy talk to the pair. He rambled on about his older sister and his old school as he fiddled with a branch on the table.

Soon Butch was part of the group, and the duo became a trio. Unlike Brick and Boomer who tried to stay out of trouble, Butch seemed to seek it out. He was rarely not in a fight, and rarely not stoned. He came to school reeking of it and was always out of his mind. But he never went behind their backs, instead he seemed to take the pressure off of his friends. The more attention people paid to Butch, the less they paid to Boomer and Brick. No one cared about a smiley boy, and a freak with red eyes, who was too tall. Instead they cared about the boy who said stupid things, flirted with their girlfriends, had large canines, shook all the time, a strange hairstyle, and who would always be good for a fight. If someone decided to go for his friends, it was Butch who was there to fight them off, literally.

Butch also always seemed to be on the run, he ran away from home, ran away from strange men who came after him. But Boomer and Brick never asked him about it. Because he never asked about Boomer's bruises and cuts, and never mentioned Bricks sweaters when it was far too hot out for him to wear one. Instead he joked and laughed away with the two.

"Boomer! Brick! Come over tonight, my dad got sent back to jail and my sister is looking after me now! That means I can bring people over finally!" Brick and Boomer exchanged looks, Butch had never mentioned his father but the boys never went to each other's houses. "Well you fuckwads, whadda say?" Butch laughed as he waited for their response.

"Of course we'll go." Brick spoke up.

"Great! Aw jeez this is gonna be so cool, you're gonna love Brute, and my dog, and oh oh we can have pizza." He excitedly clapped his hands together, "And fuck bringing clothes to change into we can just go home and y'all can borrow some of mine! Wait, will your parents mind?"

"It shouldn't be that big of an issue." Boomer smiled, and Brick nodded. Boomer in reality had no idea how his father would react. But what seemed like a good night's sleep, and a night without a beating seemed too good to pass up. If he was going to die, he might as well go to heaven the night before, one last good time before he died. Maybe that's what his mom thought, the night she walked into the ocean.

Boomer was back in class after lunch, it was art and the teacher had answered a knock on the door. She seemed to be talking to someone on the outside. Soon after a girl walked in.

Boomer couldn't believe his eyes, it was his angel from that night. She had long pigtails draping over her shoulders, and soft blonde hair. Her eyes were a soft blue and she had a few distinct freckles dotting her face. They were more like beauty marks than freckles if he was thinking about it. She was small and bright, as she smiled up at the teacher.

She sat down in the free seat in front of him, and Boomer swore that he was dreaming. This was his angel, the one he saw, the one who would fly him away and away from this cruel place, she was the one. She had sat down to a girl who Boomer had never talked to, but had seen Brick look at quite often. He had seen them walk off together lots of times, and he was sure he would eventually bring her to the picnic table, but he never did. She always looked too put together, like she was hiding some deep, dark secret. Never once was she seen with a skirt too short, or sleeves not folded. Blossom was too good for that. She was quiet, and never looked up. Rumor had it, she had pink irises, maybe that's why brick talked to her. Because he understood what that felt like. To be different from everyone else in such a physical way that you couldn't hide.

Blossom had peachy, orange hair that was long like Brick's with blunt bangs covering her forehead. She always wore red bows in her hair and was often doted on by a very tan and very mean looking girl with short black hair, and bright green eyes. Blossom had freckles like Brick too, but just not as intense, nor was she as tall. The girl with the short black hair rarely let her out of her sight, and often held her hand in the hallway, walking her to classes and glaring at anyone who looked at her friend. Boomer wondered if Blossom's friend knew about Brick.

The angel is happy to be sat by Blossom, she immediately starts to talk to her and soon the two are giggling like children. Her smile is so bright, Boomer wondered what she would look like if her hair was in ringlets. He wondered what her name was.

When school had ended, Boomer followed Butch his house, Brick by his side. They end up at a rundown apartment and Butch leads them up an outer staircase to a door. "Well this is it, home sweet home! I know it looks shabby on the outside, but I swear it's nicer on the inside!" He unlocks the door and opens it carefully, as to not hit anything. The house reeks of incense and weed, and many tapestries are hung around the walls. A girl with only a bra and boxers on, is sitting on the couch, petting an old labrador who's splayed out on her lap. Her head is half shaved and the other half is a short cut of black hair. Like Butch she too has many piercings, but some are on her face as well. She's watching a sitcom, and looks up as they enter. "I'm home! This is Brick and Boomer." They wave awkwardly as the girl turns to look at them, "Brick, Boomer, this is my sister Brute!"

"It's nice to meet you both, Butch never shuts up about you two. I'm glad he's found friends though, so thank you both for putting up with him." She laughs as Butch blushes at the insult and exposee.

The boys follow Butch to his room, which consists of many band posters, and a mattress on the floor with lots and lots of pillows. A tv with an gaming system sits on the floor as well, the wires strewn around on the carpet.

There's an awkward silence as the three try to find something to talk about. "I saw an angel today." Boomer speaks up. Butch looks at him in disbelief and Brick laughs as soon as he says this. "I'm not joking."

"Whadda mean an angel? There ain't no such thing as angels." Butch says as he flops down to his bed, holding a pillow in his arms.

"Is too! I- um well." Boomer wasn't sure if he wanted to tell the whole story. Neither of his two friends knew about his home life, and he barely knew anything about theirs. "I'd have to start at the beginning."

And so he did. He told them about the beach house, and the big parties. His mother and her sweet smiles, her ringlets, and how she walked into the ocean even though she said she loved him. Boomer's told them about his father, and how he had lost his love, and with it his mind. And how on that one night, he had seen an angel. Butch and Brick's faces never once seemed to show pity, instead understanding what he meant. "I saw an angel that night, i swear. And now i saw her again today. I mean she didn't have wings, but she's the angel from that night, she has to be."

Brick stared at his friend, and soon found himself holding his hand. "I don't believe in angels. But i wish they existed, and so i hope she really is one." Butch nodded as he curled further into the pillow he held. "I just can't find myself believing in something i haven't seen, it's not me" Brick wiped his brow, sweat was beading off of his forehead. He pulled his sweater off and threw it to the side. Underneath was a red t-shirt with short sleeves. And scarred arms, lines tracing from his wrist to his bicep. "Don't stare, I'm just hot, and there's no one that i don't trust around." They didn't stare, until Brick spoke again. "I'll tell you when i'm ready, so don't think too hard about it."

"This got sad really fast, lets focus on something else instead, like pizza!" The boys agreed, and after a long time arguing settled on a meat lovers pizza. Butch left to go out to ask his sister to order. He came back with a wide grin on his face, braces reflecting light as he proudly announced the order was on. The rest of the night consisted of the boys talking about nothing important, the school's gossip, their least favorite teacher, and so on. Soon Brick found himself to be the last on awake, Butch being the first to fall asleep, with Boomer following soon after. The two younger boys were curled around each other, arms and legs swung on top of one or the other. Brick placed a pillow under each of their heads and a blanket on the top of the two. He exited the room to see Brute still on the couch, unmoved from before.

"Hey." she said as Brick turned the faucet on and grabbed a cup. "I like your eyes kid, come over here for a sec." Surprised from the sudden compliment, Brick approached her. "I know it must be hard. I've seen you around town before, with your little sister. If you ever need anything, or a place to stay, you can always come here. I've been in that situation myself, and I understand how difficult it is to grow up so fast so young." Brick's face turns red as he looks down at his feet. Brute ruffles his hair and pats him on the shoulder. "You're just the kind of friend Butch needs." He'd rather she didn't know, but he was grateful for the offer.

"Thank you"


	3. Roses

Brick is 6. He is the eldest of his three siblings. He has a younger brother and an even younger sister. His father has been long gone. He's never met the man but his mother always speaks highly of him. His mother tells Brick she's a dancer when he asks what her job is. Brick asked her to teach him how to dance. She laughs and pinches his cheek. She promises to show him another time, when he's a little bit older. Brick loves his mother with her long orange hair that she wears in braids, with her bright red eyes. She loves her son too, and when she leaves for work in the late hours of the night she always tucks him and his siblings in. They sleep in one big bed, all four of them. Brick often wonders why his father would leave someone so great as his mother, couldn't he see how much she loved him? Wasn't love all you needed?

One day Brick is at school and a kid tell him he's a demon because of his eyes. Brick tells him to shut up, but the kid screams it louder. **DEMONDEMONDEMON** the rest of the kids turn, and Brick panics. What would his mother think? He's not a demon! He's not! So he punches the kid. Over and Over and Over and Over.

His mother has to pick him up from school, and Brick cries the whole way home. She tells him he's not a demon. And that his eyes are like roses in bloom, a beautiful flower to show love. His eyes are to show love, she tells him as she kisses him on the forehead. If no one could see that she says, then they don't deserve the love that his eyes were meant to give. She tells him not to hurt others, and that it's better to tell a teacher, or ask them to stop. Brick looks up at his mother, as she says this, and he knows it's only half true.

Brick is 9. He is waiting for his mother to pick him up from soccer practice in her car. She recently just got it, and she was so proud. She drove to their tiny apartment and took Brick and his siblings for ice cream. She gushes about all of them, how proud she is of Brick, and how well he's doing on the soccer team. She goes on and on about Blaze and how good his art is getting, and how much she loves it. She dotes on Berserk and how pretty her daughter is turning out to be. That night was the best night the family had had in awhile. Brick had never seen his mother so vibrant, so full of life and pride. She tells Brick she'll teach him how to dance soon, real dancing.

He's never seen his brother so _mangled_ , so bloody. A car had cut his mother's off at an intersection, and hit it so hard it flipped, over and over and over and over again. His brother wasn't wearing his seatbelt, and had been smashed around and around and around in the car. His mother was luckier. But she didn't come home. Not that day, and not the next. Brick got a ride home from one of his teachers, and he met his sister in the apartments lobby. He held her close as the landlord unlocked their home for them. That night he held her, as she cried and cried and cried. Brick didn't shed a tear until she was asleep. And then he sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. Until he couldn't cry anymore, and went to sleep.

His mother is in a coma, and the landlord says that they can't stay if they can't pay. Brick wishes she would wake up so she could teach him how to dance. And so he could see her rose eyes again, and she could kiss his forehead again and hold him in her arms. But now he has to be strong, if not for himself then for his sister. But he's too young and too weak and too poor. He can't do anything except cry.

He deserves this, he's a demon, and he doesn't deserve happiness. And so he begins to slice open his skin. First slowly, then it increased.

Brick is 10, he no longer lives in their old apartment. He lives with his foster family, and his younger sister. His foster dad is a cheater, that Brick knows. He's a cheater because he's always in the bathroom when Brick's taking a shower or bath. He's a cheater when he pushes him on the tile wall and touches Brick. He's a cheater when Brick is in his bed, and he climbs in with him. Brick knows he deserves it, he deserves everything that comes his way, as long as Berserk is safe, he deserves everything, and he will take anything.

Brick still slices his wrists open, and now he goes deep. He wants to just disappear but he knows he can't leave his sister behind. He visits his mother as often as he can, someone is paying for the bills, Brick doesn't know who. He likes to imagine it's his dad, and he really did love Brick's mom and it wasn't his fault that he left, that it was out of his control. Brick now has a friend however, a blond boy with sad blue eyes, but a bright smile. He shows up to school with pressed shirts and purple circles all over his body. But Brick doesn't care, because it's not his business, and if he doesn't tell him, then he doesn't need to know.

Brick is 12, he is in middle school and he meets a girl. She's on the floor as girls surround her, stomping and kicking her. He just stares as they get bored and eventually leave one by one. The girl lays on the floor, staring at Brick. Her eyes are pink and her hair is peach. She reminds Brick of the springtime, and so he walks over to her side. She has tears streaming down her face, and her shirt is now covered in foot prints. He understands because he sees the marks on her neck. And on her chest when she shows him. He holds her closely as she cries, he strokes her hair as she sobs into his chest. Brick understands all of her pain and wishes he could take it on for her, because he deserves it.

His foster father still creeps into the shower and into his bed, but now Brick is attracting a different crowd. Different men are coming to the house and into his room, he lets it happen. Afterall he deserves it, and so Brick doesn't have a choice. If he takes the pain away from Berserk, he'd let a thousand men into his room willingly. Brick gets good clothing, and good food from the strange men. But he gets grunts and moans in his mind when he tries to sleep. He can't stop hearing them, and he can't wash off the grime, he can't wash it away. Brick hasn't cut his hair, his foster father forbade him from doing so, Brick knows why but he doesn't challenge it.

Berserk comes with Brick to visit their mother now, she's 8 and is turning out to be as pretty as her mother. She has hot pink eyes, and a strong will. She tells Brick not to worry because no one bullies her, because she scares them all away. He laughs and kisses her forehead. Brick's mother is still getting paid for, and this year he received a card in the mail for his birthday. _I'll be home soon, -love dad_. Brick waits, and hopes soon means very soon.

Brick loves his sister though, and makes sure to show her the love his mother showed him. He holds her when she cries, and always helps her with her homework. Brick is top of his class, every if it wasn't acknowledged it didn't change the fact he knew he was smart. Brick takes her wherever she wants and always lets her sleep in his bed when she has a nightmare. He braids her hair and ties a ribbon into it whenever she asks, after all she deserved everything and he deserved nothing.

Brick is 14, he's started high school. His father hasn't come yet and hasn't sent another letter, and Brick still creates lines on his arms. His step father hasn't stopped but he's gained another friend named Butch. He still hangs with Blossom sometimes and they talk and sometimes they don't. He cares about Blossom just like he cares about his sister, he wants to take all her pain away, he wants to take her pain. Because no one else deserves that, only he does. Blossom cries whenever he says this, and says he doesn't deserve it.

Instead she takes his hand, and pulls him close. She runs her fingers over the lines on his wrist and kisses his forehead. Brick hasn't cried in years, but a tear drops down his cheek when she does this. She tells him to wait for her after school so she can show him something. He agrees.

The next day he waits on the steps leading to the school's entrance. Blossom takes his hand like the day before, and Brick's heart begins to beat a little faster. She doesn't speak as she leads him on to her secret. Soon they reach a gate covered in vines, its hidden away behind many trees and bushes in the nearby park. She takes a key out from her pocket and opens the gate for Brick.

"Roses." He says as she closes the gate behind them. "Red roses." Inside was a garden full of all types of flowers, but mostly roses, vivid, red, roses. Just like the kind his mother said his eyes were so long ago. He goes to the nearest bush and presses his finger to the thorn, digging it in slightly.

"You're eyes are like my roses Brick. So let me take care of you like i take care of my roses." She sits down next to him in the dirt, staining her white skirt brown. She places her hand on his cheek as he leans in. "A rose is symbolic for love Brick." Her eyes met his, the unnatural colors piercing each of their gazes. "Do you believe in love?" Brick let his lips touch hers as he leaned in to her face.

"Yes." And for the first time, Brick understands what his mother meant when she said to find someone who knew what his eyes were for.


	4. Beaten by a girl

Butch wakes up early in the morning, Boomer is laying on top of him, his arms cradled around a pillow. Brick is already gone, and left a note for his friend. _Went home, thanks for inviting me- Brick_. His brow scrunched together, it was rude for someone to leave as early as he did, but he probably had a good reason for it. After all he was the oldest of their group, Butch was the second, and Boomer was the youngest. He hadn't known them both for very long, but they already felt Butch had known them his whole life. Boomer and Brick were like brothers to him, and he treated them like they actually were blood related. Butch yawns and gently wriggles out from under the boy who was on top of him, trying his best not to wake him. He places a blanket back over his remaining friend and smiles. It's nice to have friends like this.

He goes out to the living room/ kitchenette to see his sister lying on the couch, arms dangling off, and a cigarette still dimly aflame in an ashtray. She shuffles and sits up when her younger brother enters, Brute always had a sixth sense for sensing people's movements. Especially for her younger brother, whom she dearly loved. "Good morning Butch," she cooes and his face turns beet red.

"Go back to bed, jeez." He turns away as he pulls out a cereal box from a cabinet. Butch hasn't seen his sister like this in years, the whole talking and receiving affection was new to him. Normally she was out of the house with his father, while they took care of business together. Butch never knew what they did together, but Brute never answered his questions, instead she just smiled and ruffled his hair. When his dad was sent to jail something changed in his sister, and she became a whole different person. But it was a good changed, at least that's what Butch thought. She came back that day and immediately started to decorate the apartment, changing the peeling walls into a mural of bright colored cloth, and brought home a new couch. Butch was ecstatic for the change, how he hated the plain gray that he picked at while he waited for his family to come home. Now the four roomed apartment felt like home to him, the smell of cigarettes and sweat replaced by incense and pot. Brute always had a stick going, or at least a candle. She said it was to recreate the vibes of their house, to drive away the negative energy. Butch doesn't believe in stuff like that, but if it makes his sister happy he would gladly go along with it.

Brute falls back down on the couch and the labrador lifts its head towards her hand. She scratches its ear as she goes back to her slumber, the cigarette smoke filling the air around her. Butch now has two bowls of cereal, Captain Crunch, not the peanut butter king, but the berry one. Butch hates peanut butter, so he makes sure it never comes into the house. He kicks Boomer gently as he stands above him, trying to wake his friend. Boomers eyes open and Butch thrusts the cereal at him, spilling milk onto the mattress.

"Brick already left, just so you know." Boomer nods as he jams cereal into his mouth.

 _Do you think angels have to be a girl? Couldn't they be anyone, can't you have multiple angels? Or can you only have one angel in your life?_

Boomer goes home later that morning, and is met by his father at the doorstep. And a firm slap to the face. He's sent to his room while his father returns to his room, where the moaning and giggling continues. Boomer touches his face, the pain is subtle now. The harsh stinging doesn't seem to bother him as he lays down on his bed, after all, he saw his angel.

Brick is in Berserk's room, he's helping her with her homework, neither of their foster parents commented when he came home. They didn't ask where he had been and he didn't tell them. He was relieved, and even more so when Berserk was safe and sound. She asks him if their mother ever taught him how to dance, and he says she didn't get to it. But when she wakes up she could teach both of them. And when their father comes to get them that he can tell them all about her dancing, and how much he loved her, how much he loved them. She smiles and tells Brick that she hopes he's right.

It's a Saturday and Brick finds himself walking downtown to the hospital, he is well known by the staff now. They smile as he enters, and give him a warm good morning. He walks to his mother's room, the cold air conditioning of the hospital halls freezing his arms. The fall weather is chilly outside and yet the hospital never seems to warm, instead it remains stably cold, all year round. He enters his mother room, and a man is standing over her by a doctor. Brick's heart is racing as he approaches the two men, "Is- Is she okay?" he chokes out to the adults in the room. They turn and the man he's never seen stares down at him. He has piercing red eyes and short black hair. He's tall and built, with a mean look on his face as he looks down at Brick.

"She's fine, if not getting better. Who are you kid?" His voice is rough and low, it's not gentle but instead indifferent to anything.

"I'm her son, who are you?" Brick's voice is lower as he becomes defensive. Who is this man, and how does he know his mom? Why does he have red eyes, that wasn't common. He was so tall, taller than Brick who was already six foot, and he had such a large scar on his face.

"I'm your dad." The man drops down to meet his eyes with his son.

Brick has never been so angry. But before he can say another word, his father pats him on the shoulder and exits the room. Brick wants him to come back, he wants him to take him with him. He wants his dad to take at least Berserk away _. Why is he leaving? Why isn't he taking them with him? Why is he abandoning them again?_

On monday Boomer is in art again, waiting for his angel to reappear. He watches as she enters, her face glowing with beauty and the mean girl with the short black hair stands at the doorway as Blossom enters with her. Her gaze meets with Boomers and she glares at him, sending a shiver down his spine. Again she sits in front of Boomer, her hair in two braids and is dressed in an overall dress with a blue coat over it. There are patches here and there, and Boomer wonders if they are for decoration or if they are holding it together. But she still reminds him of his angel from the sidewalk. He wonders if she knows he exists, and if she really is an angel. He draws angels that day, angels with pigtails and big wings.

She walks by as he does this, and her face turns pink when she sees his drawings, their eyes meet for a second and her face grows even redder as she looks away and walks away quickly to her own seat. Boomer's own face turns into a tomato shade as she goes away. He can't look at her the rest of the day.

At lunch Butch gets into a fight with the girl with short black hair. He had cut her in the lunch line by what he claimed to be an accident. Boomer and Brick watched, as many other kids did as they argued, and eventually started to throw punches at each other. The girl with short black hair was on top and pounding away at his face, the angel was running towards her. She yelled out a name, Buttercup, as she pleaded for her to stop. Her friend didn't stop, and soon the angel had her arms wrapped around her waist, and was pulling her off, or trying her best. Butch kicked his assailant off and moved back. The girl called Buttercup calmed down as the angel pulled her away as best she could. Blossom ran over soon after and shuffled them both away, dispersing the crowd. Butch walked over to their table as he held his arm.

"Beaten by a girl, haha i'm such a loser." He laughs it off but Boomer can tell he's enraged at the defeat.


	5. Birthdays

Brute is 13, her father is a well known drug dealer, and she has a 6 year old brother named Butch. Her mom lived in another state, and didn't bother to fight for custody of her children. Her ex-husband was far too frightening for her to fight against. Besides Brute didn't want her mother back, she was nothing but trouble, always spending their money and going out late at night when she didn't have a job. She'd come back drunk and sometimes not at all. She disappeared for days and came back on their father's shoulder, completely blacked out. Soon her father grew tired of her actions and divorced her. And afterwards became focused on his daughter, bringing her with him to meetings and gun ranges. Brute is becoming his assistant, his partner in crime.

Brute is 16, and she has just killed her first victim. She didn't mean to, she really didn't, he came at her so fast and so she shot out, her eyes closed in fear. She had hit him right in his forehead, killing him instantly. Brute was throwing up as her father takes the body, he tells her not to worry, that he would take care of it. She can't get the image of the man out of her head, his cold eyes and shocked stare as he falls down to the ground. His rolled back eyes and shaking body. Brute has nightmares from then on, the man was always in them. Soon she finds herself looking at the bottom of beer bottles and the ends of needles from syringes. Her father doesn't know and she stays away from her younger brother, who's now 9. She rarely comes home anyways, and when she's out she's dancing away the pain at clubs that let her in without an ID and let her drink as much as she wants.

Brute is 17 and her father has found her secrets, he's ashamed to be around her. He sends her to a cold cold building where they keep her in a room and feed her medicine that makes her throw up.

Brute is 19, and is no longer in the cold building and no longer looks at the bottles like they are her only friend. Instead she's back with her father and has killed her second victim. This time there are no nightmares, she doesn't scream or throw up, instead she looks at him coldly as his body twitches. She doesn't care. Many more come after.

Butch is 14, he watches as his father is taken out of their apartment in handcuffs, his sister holds his hand in hers and squeezes it tightly. He doesn't know why he's going to jail, he doesn't know he took the blame for Brute, and that he claims it was all him. All he knows is that his father wasn't coming back, and Brute wasn't going out at night anymore. She stayed home and looked after him, she no longer was out for days at a time like their mother, and instead rarely went outside anymore. She smokes a cigarette sometimes and that's all, she doesn't know about Butch's drugs, and she doesn't need to. Butch's father says he loves them both, and says he'll call when he can. So far he hasn't.

At school Butch cuts a girl in the lunch line, immediately she is enraged, and soon they find themselves fighting outside. She's sitting on top of him and her fists are meeting his face. But her green eyes are meeting his own, and he can't help but look back. He isn't scared of her, and doesn't try to fight back, instead just closes his eyes and waits. There's no point in fighting someone like her, afterall it wasn't the right decision.

He acts like he's ashamed of being beaten by her, but he waits for her after school, by the door. He asks her name and she sneers, "It's Buttercup bitch, don't forget it." He laughs and walks away from her.

 _Do you think angels are always nice? Or can they be mean, like a demon, but their intentions good? Are we the only ones who can determine if an angel is good or bad?_

Brick is sitting in a garden with his friend Blossom, it's the first day of November, and his birthday is coming up. She's picking the last of the flowers in her garden, before they all begin to wilt she says. Blossom is planning to press them in her book. Every year she takes the last blooms and presses them into her garden book, sometimes there are the same flowers for many years, and sometimes there are new ones instead. She smiles as Brick watches her from his sitting place. His hands are in his lap as he tries to warm his hands.

Brick wonders if Blossom has somewhere nice to sleep now, and if she's okay now, or if it hasn't stopped yet. He wants to tell her about his father but he doesn't think it's the right time, or the right topic. Instead he asks a question, "Do you believe in angels?" She stops in her tracks and looks at him with wide eyes.

"Yes, in fact i know one." Blossom smiles as she goes to sit by Brick, she places herself in his lap and faces him. "She's blonde, and has humongous wings, her name is Bubbles." Brick is stunned, and can't tell if she's joking. Because Boomer's angel is real.

It's the middle of the week and Boomer has found himself in a conversation with his angel in the art room. Her name is Bubbles and she says she's from heaven. He asks if she's joking but she just smiles and says its a secret. She is never seen without the girls Blossom and Buttercup. Bubbles says that she's here to find someone to protect, a secret mission from god, he asks if she's figured out who she's supposed to save and she laughs instead of answering. She asks to see his drawings of angels, because they looked like her. Soon Boomer finds himself showing her all of his drawings of the angel he saw that night.

Bubbles asks if she can take one home, and Boomer agrees, ripping a page out for her. She grins and gives him a big hug, Boomer wonders if she's actually an angel, or just messing with him. He doesn't feel wings on her back, but he feels a warm glow from her chest.

 _Do all angels have wings and halos?_

Brick is met later in the week by Blossom as she leads him to his picnic table, there sits Boomer, Butch and two girls he doesn't know the names of. In the middle sits a cake with red icing on it, with the message happy birthday Brick sloppily written in the center. He looks at her and points towards himself.

"For me?" She laughs, and he swears that the blonde girl seems to be glowing brightly. Boomer is sat next to her and Brick seems to understand, that's the angel.

"Yes, for you, happy birthday Brick." He sits down and looks around at the table of kids, he doesn't deserve to be so happy. But Blossom cuts the cake, and everyone gets a piece of the strawberry cake with the thick red frosting. They spend the whole lunch laughing and joking and even Buttercup and Butch don't fight this time.

When he goes home he finds Berserk sleeping on the kitchen table, a gift in her hands as she's waiting for him to return from school. He picks her up in his arms and carries her to her bed, kissing her on the forehead.

 _Do angels have siblings?_

The gift wrapping is red with a black bow around it, he wonders how she got the money for wrapping paper, and a gift to go with it. He slowly opens it, careful not to tear apart the paper, instead taking the tape off on the bottom and unfolding it. The black ribbon sits on his bed with the paper as he opens the box, inside is a string bracelet with small fake roses woven into it, its handmade but sturdy and Brick slides it onto his wrist.

He finds himself not as bother that night when a man comes into his room, instead he thinks to himself about the angel at the picnic table, and the one in the garden filled with wilting roses in the chilly fall weather.

 _Do angels have birthdays?_

Blossom is 4, her mother and father are madly in love. They live in a small cookie cutter house in a nice neighborhood and live the american dream. Both work and both love their daughter so very much. Her father says she's his little flower, as he bounces her on his knees. Her mother takes her to her garden to show her all the flowers she plants, and all the plants when it's warmer. Together they are the loving family and Blossom is happy, shining radiantly with glee as she basks in the sunny days in her pink dresses and large woven hats.

Blossom is 8, her parents don't love each other as much, but they still love each other. They still spend time with their daughter, but money is tight and they find themselves working more, while home less and less. Blossom doesn't mind, she spends most of her time in her mother's garden, taking care of it like her mother had taught her how to do. She is her parent's flower, and so she will take care of their flowers, and make them bloom as best she can. Sometimes she goes to a field she's found and lays in the grass, soaking in the sun, listening to the birds chirp around her, and the bees buzz. She is at home in her field, and in the spring when the flowers bloomed and matched her eyes. The kids at school ask why her eyes are pink and why her hair is so long. She doesn't know how to answer and they start to tease her for those eyes. The pink dresses and the clean shoes turn muddy as shes shoved into the ground at playtime, her mother yells at her for ruining her dresses and Blossom just cries. She can't worry her mother over something so dumb as getting dresses dirty because of her eyes. She works too hard and too much to let something else be on her mind. Her mother worries she isn't getting enough attention and hires a babysitter.

The babysitter is mean to Blossom, and tells her that flowers will always wilt in the winter, no matter how hard you try, it doesn't matter the beauty they have because they always always wilt. Blossom cries and tells them to stop, and to shut up, because she doesn't like the mean words he says. So instead he tells her he can make it up to her. And he touches her, saying its a fun game. Blossom does not have fun, and the insults are not made up.

Blossom is 13, and is laying under her babysitter, who never stopped playing those games, but Blossom had learned they weren't games at all, instead he was using her, and touching her wrongly, so she told him to stop. He had told her to shut it and he wasn't doing anything wrong. They were playing a new game he said. Blossom didn't like it. Her parents were barely home, and sometimes Blossom didn't bother coming home to the empty house. Instead she went to her garden and stayed until she fell asleep and returned home later on. She told her mother she didn't need a babysitter anymore, and her mother fired him. But Blossom never stopped hearing it from the boys in her class, they'd drag her to the bathroom and use her there. She never told a soul, until one day, she was attacked by a group of girls, they called her a whore and a slut and that she was good for nothing. And a boy with red eyes watched her the whole time.

Red eyes, like roses. She stared as he approached her, helping her up. And Blossom cried, she cried because she told this rose boy about everything and he said he understood, and that he would be here.

 _Do you think angels cry?_


	6. Selfish Boys

Butch stands still, soaking in the wind as it blows on his arms. He's wearing nothing but his boxers and is standing on the roof of his rickety apartment.

How long would it take to fall, all the way down from here? He stares down at all the people walking on the sidewalks, they're so small. They look like ants, and Butch could just squash them, because they're that small. He laughs to himself and perches on the very edge. Is he that small? Because right now, at this very moment he seems so big, like nothing is bigger than him, because he is on top. He is so tall, so far up. Butch could jump up and touch the clouds if he tried, and if he got a ladder, could he reach the stars?

Would anyone be sad if he fell, maybe Brute. But would Boomer care, and would Brick? He hopes that they would, because if they died, Butch knows he would care, care so so so much for the friends he's made and known just for a month now. The crisp November air bites at his stomach as another gust of wind blows into him. Could that very same wind blow him away and off the edge of the building. And when he falls, will he crush all the ants when he doesn't change sizes, and stays so very big? He stands again and balances on one foot, daring the wind to blow again, to push him off the edge.

It doesn't ever come.

Boomer is waiting on the steps after school has ended, he doesn't feel like going home yet. Instead he wants to see his angel again, maybe this time she'll fly him away.

Kids are spilling out the doors, one after another, as if they are waves in an ocean. They come strongly, then softly, all in a tempo made only by mans limbs. It's not natural and yet, it feels like it is. Soon he sees a touch of blonde, its long and soft, and he knows it's hers. Today she is wearing a blue raincoat, it has raindrops on the bottom. They blend into the darker blue at the bottom and disappear. Her yellow rain boots walk over to him, and she smiles down at him. The puddle that has formed next to Boomer encampuses her shoes and threatens to spill over onto Boomers damp jeans. He stands as she offers her hand to him, helping him up. It's more of a gesture than actual help, but he's grateful anyways.

He stands, and opens up his too small umbrella, trying to shield himself from the gentle rain. How long has it been since it rained in this little town? There has of course been torrential downpours but never a soft shower like this, it seems too nice for the place that they live in. Boomer finds himself jumping into puddles that form in the dips in the concrete with the girl who isn't really known as angel, but instead Bubbles. He's soon thankful that instead of opting for a smarter choice of shoes he wore a pair of five dollar flip flops. They'd never get soaked in the rain, but the ends of his worn and torn jeans are. They weigh him down and he jumps from one puddle to the next, the water splashing upwards and around him, soaking parts of his jeans, and threatening to hit Bubbles. Bubbles is graceful as she jumps, slowly but gently hopping into the next one, both feet at a time. It seems like she's trying to imitate a rabbit, hands in her pockets as she jumps.

Boomer's hair is soon sticking to his face, the rain acting as a glue. He spits it out of his mouth as he wipes the beads of water from his brow. He doesn't have an actual coat, instead he's layered a sweater and flannel together, trying to capture his body heat inside the clothing and keep it there. Now it's soaked and the warmth is soon disappearing and being replaced with a cold and wet feeling. He shivers slightly at the change in temperature as he sits on a bench with the angel. She's kicking her feet back and forth while her hands are placed in her lap. Bubbles looks like a child, Boomer thinks, less like an angel and more like a young girl waiting for a mother to come back.

"Are you really an angel, or were you joking?" He asks.

She laughs and turns to face him, "You'll know eventually." Boomer frowns, his blue eyes frustrated. Why did she insist on being so difficult all the time? It's not fair. He huffs, and gets up to leave. He feels a tug on his too big flannel and turns around to see Bubbles holding the fabric in her hand, eyes desperate for him to stay with her. But he just glares and tugs it away, leaving her to sit in the rain by herself.

Brick is sitting in Blossom's house, he didn't feel like going straight home today, and Blossom didn't want to be alone after school. Her house could use another living, breathing person inside of it. He sits alone on the floor, between the couch and the coffee table, wrapped in a blanket. It smells of strawberries and peonies, the warmth reaches towards his bones and tries to seep into his skin. A kettle starts to scream in another room and Brick closes his eyes, when was the last time he was this warm? He sinks back into the couch behind him, and exhales, his breath hot. The kettles screams have died off, and something hot is placed it Brick's lap. He opens his eyes, and looks down at the hot cup that lays between his legs, it smells of home.

Suddenly Blossom warps circling and circling, until, her face becomes older, her eyes darker, and hair longer. Brick finds himself looking at his mother, her hands wrapped around a cup as she smiles at him. The room is transformed back into that two room apartment he spent his childhood in. He is home, and the room smells of nutmeg and cream, and Brick is scared. It's all too real but he knows it's not, his mother is still sleeping, and that home is gone. He's shaken out by Blossom who has noticed that her friend hasn't moved since she placed the drink into his hands. Brick looks into the beverage only to find his face looking back at him. When did he get so old?

He gets up and roughly throws the blanket off, this is too comfortable for him. Blossom is too nice, he doesn't deserve this kindness, this love, the nutmeg and cream, the strawberries and peonies. He deserves the men in the night, and the cold floor that he lays on, the empty feeling in his stomach when he feels something gush into his body. The thrusts and groans that come from behind, the rough tongues and the grabbing hands that leave bruises from the nights spent together. Brick storms out into the rain, which has started to pour harder, leaving Blossom and the drinks behind in her cold and lonely house.

Blossom watches as he leaves, and the house that for the few minutes, felt warm and filled, now is empty and cold again. Perhaps even colder this time if that was possible. She finds herself choking back tears, holding the slightly damp blanket in her hands, then wrapping it around her. Laying her head on the table, she sobs, her body shaking as her hands grasp for something. Some warm, some love, someone to fill this empty house. Instead her hands find only herself, the shaking mess of a girl whose love has left her without explanation.

The walk home only gets Brick wet, nothing good comes from it, Berserk isn't even home yet. He wonders where she is, but at the same time, the panic that would normally be in his chest is being suppressed. Just because she isn't waiting for him in the living room doesn't equate to not being home. So he checks her room, and finds her sleeping, curled up in a mess of blankets, her hair strewn around her face, like vines surrounding a tree. How Brick just wants to give her to another family, a better one, one where he doesn't have to worry about her. What a burden this love is for him.

 _Can angels be selfish?_

Butch finds himself staring at Buttercup across the lunch room, the tables perfectly aligning so that he can just see her if he leans his neck to the right. She's oh so something to him, something he can't quite explain. She seems so free, like she has nothing to worry about. And yet she surrounds herself with a slut and child. Why? Of course she must be getting something from it, a kick out of helping those who are broken, people like Butch, and everyone else he knows. Those who are broken tend to circle together, because they rely on someone else to understand what they mean when they say what is happening to them. So why do they have Buttercup, a girl who seems like she carries no one, while her friends carry the world on their shoulders. It pisses Butch off, he is envious and he hates her for it. How lucky she is, how selfish she must be.

Why does she get wings while he must stay on the ground, she is the giant and Butch is the ant.


	7. It's what he deserved

Blossom is waiting in the hallway, eyes searching for the only person she wants to talk to. It's been a week and what seemed to be like a perfect group of 6 has disbanded completely. She had asked Boomer if Brick was okay, and all she had received was a shrug, he said Brick had been a dick lately and they'd gotten into a fight. The bruise on his cheek proved that and Boomer walked away afterwards hands in his pockets, a slouch in his back. She had spotted Brick in the hallways, their eyes meeting as roses and carnations blooming from sockets fly into the air, but he quickly snapped his head away soon after that brief moment they shared. Her rose boy was sinking his thorns into her skin as the petals fell to the floor-wilted.

She asks Butch later that day if he knows what is wrong with Brick. He just shrugs and walks away, and now she's all out of options. The hallways of school never felt as cold as they do in this very moment. The click clack of her shoes on the polished granite beneath her echoes so loudly over the chitchat in the halls. She finds herself looking up at cold red eyes. Possinetas that bloom in the winter season are growing by his feet."Why did you leave?" she asks as she tugs gently on his sweater soft warm yarn that covers scarred skin. "Please don't leave me Brick." Blossom chokes out, she's already beginning to slip. Brick closes his locker and moves Blossom's bangs out from her eyes.

"You're too good for me, all of you are." Blossom only grabs her chest and her other hand squeezes harder on his sweater. It's not true, how could he be so blind. To her, he deserved all she had to offer him, everything she could give. Like those petals in the hallway there are no blossoms on the floor though, only cold granite so shiny she can see her reflection in it.

"That's not true, please believe me!" she shouts out, and the hallway grows quieter for a second. Her cheeks match her eyes all rosey from tears rolling down her because everything has to be fixed or else his life will go back. Just when it was turning around, he knows it's so selfish but he can't stop himself. His fist slams onto the bathroom stall door as he tries to calm himself. It's okay it's not over just yet, he can still fix it. Taking a deep breath he heads towards the locker of the angel.

Today she is wearing a thick blue sweater and a white skirt. She's still there luckily, and that means Boomer has time.

"I'm sorry." it comes out sorta mean and aggressive, but there's nothing he can do about it now. He only hopes she understands that he's really making an effort and trying to mend his mistakes.

"It's okie dokie." she smiles extra wide for him, and take his hand into hers. "Let's finish our walk!" Boomer's ecstatic at how fast she recovered from his behavior, and it's concerning to him at the same time. But he still follows her the rest of the afternoon, and Brick slips from his mind. He and his angel are too busy fixing the mistake he had made, and forging something new together.

Butch frowns, neither Boomer or Brick is around after school today, normally he can find the roaming the halls finding some reason to not go home. A tap on the shoulder makes him jump, and his heart stops for a second.

"Heya bitchboy," his brow wrinkles as he turns around.

"Buttercup." he should have known.

"Have you seen Blossom or Bubbles? I'd ask your loser friends, but i can't find them either." Butch shakes his head and Buttercup sighs. "I really don't like you, but i'd rather not be stuck alone."

Suddenly, Butch finds himself having Buttercup follow him around, much to his displeasure. He can't seem to shake her either, no matter how sneakily he tries to lose her, she always seems to reappear seconds later. He's losing his mind, not that he had one to start with, but that didn't matter! They find themselves outside half an hour later, Butch panting with his hands on his knees and Buttercup just watches him judgement in her eyes. "Ya know carrot-head is acting kinda weird lately, i saw him smile earlier, kinda gave me the creeps bitchboy." Butch popped his head up and stared at her.

"He never smiles, are you sure it was him?"

"He has red eyes, and long red hair, i couldn't mistake him for someone else if i tried." Butch frowns for the billionth time that day, the expression is starting to etch onto his face, as he hears this. "If you want we can go and check up on him, instead of having you try to ditch me the rest of the afternoon." Buttercup sneers as she says this and Butch's face turns red. He thought she really hadn't noticed.

Blossom sits at home, all alone in the cold room. The blankets wrapped around her don't seem to warm her up anymore, and she can't shake the awful feeling she has. That smile, it wasn't normal he must be up to something. And it couldn't be good. She places her hand on her window and looks out. Her breath is creating a fog on the pane, and when she lifts her hand back up, there's a print left behind. _Please, be safe._

Butch is busting down the front door as Buttercup is scooping up a small girl who's crying on the porch. They can hear screaming inside, a older voice with what Butch knows to be his friend. The door isn't budging and a palm slams onto the small window pane of the door. Red, it splatters on the glass as the hand slides down, a sickening squeak as it drags down. Butch feels his lunch come up to his throat as he tries to cover his mouth with his hands. Who's hand was that? He doesn't have time to think because he hears a lock switch, and the door begins to open up. Just who is coming out? Butch has never been more frightened in his life, he can't move his body, all he can do is wait eyes wide in fear.

Brick is done with this man, this monster. He knows he deserves all of what he has been given, it's been rooting itself through his brain, creeping into every crack and crevice. But he can't take it anymore! He can't bear the thought of letting what he's known happen to his sister, to his springtime girl. It has to end now, the monster cannot live to breathe another day. So a rose boy must show his thorns, and after seeing Blossom today, his mind is made up on that it has to be done. Someone has to die today.

No rose is without its thorns, and with ruby red eyes and a knife so sharp he's the perfect rendition. The monster is asleep, laid back on a lazy boy. He already looks dead, but there needs to be more color on his corpse for Brick to be satisfied. A painter needs color for his masterpiece, and with his brush he starts to stroke it on. Not all models are so submissive and with the first dash of color to the chest he screams out. Why can't he just lay down and take what he deserves. Brick deserved everything that happened, and now he is just doing the right thing. Giving this beast what _it_ deserves! Nothing more nothing less, he's just being fair to who was just so giving, so loving, to give brick what _he_ deserved!

Stay down, just stay down! Why resist his fate now when it's what he deserves? Everyone deserves what comes to them, this is just what is supposed to happen, no matter what it was going to happen! He's doing him a favor by turning him into his masterpiece of deserving!

Brick is on the floor, eyes ablaze as his tormentor is pinning him down. Red is dripping from abdomen from abdomen, staining each others fabric crimson. He can't breathe, fingers wrapped around his neck, wringing themselves further around him. Tighter and tighter, he can feel his windpipe start to close up as it's squeezed. Teeth are bared, and they sink into fingers, spilling more red out from skin. He can breathe and now the tables are turned. His thorn is raised, and plunged into skin again, and again until he's kicked off and into a wall. Everything goes a little colder as he feels the impact, taking his breath away from his lungs. He curls up in pain as he watches a ruby stained monster limp towards him. It's instinct now as he screams in fear, all curled up legs being used to kick away the terror getting closer.

He's now a little boy and there's no blood. Only darkness and bright white eyes with a bright white smile glowing. Hands travel up his body, lifting clothing and softly pressing themselves on his chest. He doesn't want to look, but he can't seem to move, he can't scream, can't resist at all. All he can do is watch, eyes wide and shaky. Fingers pull at strings and release buttons, and everything is out in the open. Pain follows and a palm is clamped over his mouth, he can barely breathe right now. It hurts, it hurts so much, everything is shaking. His cheeks are glistening with salty tears and all he can hear are hard groans, and all he can feel is roughness inside of him. Over and over and over and over and over. And he can't think anymore, everything goes blank as only one thing is said that night.

"It's what you deserve."

And so it remains, the idea of deserving.

Anger overcomes fear and he's no longer a rose, instead he is the demon the children so feared when he was young. There's no light in the room and glass is being thrown on the floor, and suddenly the world is brightened. Small bursts of bright light are scattered around the floor and it feels like they're up in space right now. Right among the stars where there is no air, but now there is light. There's so much and it's blinding to the beast, and he's tripping and more red is being spilled on the floor, splattering everywhere. But you cannot breathe up in space where there is no oxygen, and so it has to end. He can hear pounding on the door and he's charging now at the man he once feared. But now there is no fear, and only extreme determination to protect, and anger. Bloodlust seeps out with his hot gasps for air, his body aches and there's pain in his ribs. But he can't stop, he can't stop now, not yet! He's come so far, and he can't leave a job half done like this. So he makes one final charge at the chains that have whipped him, and held him down for so long.

At age 15, Brick is in the process of killing his foster father. His little sister is outside on the porch because he locked the door so she couldn't see what he was doing. He can hear his friend Butch pounding on the door and screaming his name but it doesn't make him stop. There's lots of screaming inside, and outside Berserk, his younger sister cries harder because she doesn't know if her older brother is okay inside, or even what's happening behind that awful door. And now, it's over. The screaming has stopped and the door is being opened, but who is lucky enough to leave that awful house?

Boomer is sitting on a bench with his angel, just like they were days before, only this time it's not raining. Maybe slightly cloudy but it's not raining and that's what's important. In his hand he holds a hot cup of coffee, despite both of them not liking the beverage. She's looking up at the sky as a raindrop falls onto her cheek, imitating a tear falling down from her eyes.

"The heavens are crying, today is a sad day," stoically she states her declaration with the utmost of certainty in her voice. He can't help but wonder what she means by that.

Buttercup watches as Brick falls onto Butch, bloodied and bruised he melts into his friends arms. He's smiling, so peacefully as his eyes remain closed. Butch holds close but his eyes look a little shaky and his throat seems like that too. Stepping back a little he darts his pupils towards her, beckoning her to come closer to take a look.

"Oh hell no, what the fuck do we do now?" a corpse lays on the ground, blood seeping into the floorboards threatening to spill out to the porch.

"Get my phone, and call my sister." Buttercup blinks and pauses.

"Your sister?! Sorry to remind you but there's a-" she lowers her voice to a whisper, "a dead body right there!" Butch throws Brick on her, who is passed out now still with that childish smile painted on his cold face. He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number, then shuts the door behind him as he steps inside.

Minutes later a truck drives up, and a young punkish looking girl jumps out in scrubs with a bucket in hand full of various items. A baseball cap on her head and it seems like she isn't taking this very seriously, or maybe it's just the right amount. Butch opens the door, and they don't come out for hours after, both redheads fast asleep while Buttercup sits by, waiting for the pair to step out. They're soaked by now, and the blood that had covered Brick only stayed on his clothes as the downpour continues. She doesn't know how to feel right now, she's sitting next to a murderer who smiled so peacefully at the end of such a morbid act. Her skin pricks up every time she hears a siren in the distance but they never come closer. Brick doesn't have neighbors close by, his house is isolated in the slummy area, not that it would have made a difference if he had neighbors. Everyone seemed to mind their business in Townsville, it wasn't the best city.

Brick opens his eyes when Butch opens the door and jumps back a little on reflex. He relaxes when he sees Butch's face, and his shoulders drop.

"Why," he asks voice shaky.

"It's what he deserved."


End file.
